


Now What?

by oh_wardenmywarden



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Past Abuse, Post-Canon, Post-Dragon Age II, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 09:49:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11250639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_wardenmywarden/pseuds/oh_wardenmywarden
Summary: After the Chantry explosion in Kirkwall, Hawke's life is turned upside-down. She, Fenris, Carver, Isabela, and Anders must flee the Free Marches to save their own lives. From Chantry explosion to Chantry explosion, Hawke is just trying to keep her family alive.Post-DA2 with some canon-typical violence and a whole lotta love between these five misfits.





	Now What?

Fenris had to convince her that they had to leave.

After the Chantry exploded, after Hawke had let Anders live, after she had killed Meredith, after she had incited a rebellion, she sat in an alley in Darktown and wept.

She was bruised and bleeding, she had a cracked rib and she was certain her nose was broken, but nothing hurt as much as the sobs that wracked her body. She let the hot tears run down her face as she gasped for air. She had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming.

After what could have been a minute or an hour, she felt someone sit next to her. Hawke didn't look up, let alone blink. The person pressed his knee against hers, and she recognized his smell. Iron and wine, now with a fresh tinge of blood.

Hawke fell against Fenris, and a fresh wave of emotion washed over her. His arm automatically, instinctively, wrapped around her and gripped her shoulder. He held her small, thin body to his strong, broad one. She clutched the cloth of his shirt; she noticed he had discarded his armor.

They sat there for a while, but Fenris began to tense under her grasp. He let her calm down before he spoke.

"We have to leave, Hawke," he said into her hair.

She knew he was right, but she did not -- could not -- accept it. Kirkwall was her home. She had fought tooth and nail for almost a decade to make it so. She could not imagine tearing out the roots that had grown so deep and starting over again, this time not just as a refugee but as a wanted, dangerous apostate.

“No,” was the only response she could muster in return. 

Fenris patiently waited for her to continue. It was a habit they had developed together -- when the other was closed off, they knew it was better to just allow space and silence. It was more comfortable than pushing and prodding.

She took a deep breath. “We caused this mess, Fenris. One way or another, this is my responsibility. I can’t just...abandon it. Leave it to fester.”

“If we don’t leave, they will kill you,” Fenris replied. His voice was firm, even forceful. The sting of the truthfulness in his words made Hawke cringe.

She knew he was right. For the very reasons she wanted to stay, she would be persecuted to death. She was sure of that. Part of her wanted to face it; to stand in front of the Templars and the whole damn Chantry with her arms wide open as she looked her enemies in the face. But the biggest part of her, the part that loved Fenris and her brother and the rest of her friends and her _life_ , screamed at the the thought of that.

She looked up at Fenris and knew that, no matter how she felt about her role in the destruction of her home and her family, she would not give in.

******

The ash had settled over the streets of Kirkwall, but the city was still in chaos.

Everywhere she looked, Hawke saw someone who was hurt. Children, elderly, dogs, you name it. She had never been the best at healing spells -- she preferred fireballs -- but over the last few days, she had done everything she could to help the wounded. It was the least she could do to help the people of her home before her inevitable exodus.

Hawke’s hand pulsed with magic as she held her palm against a young boy’s head. He couldn’t have been older than six, and his skull was cracked in three places. Dried blood matted his dark blonde hair. He told Hawke he hadn’t seen his mother since the Chantry explosion.

After half an hour of treatment, Hawke pointed to the cot in a crowded corner of the room. 

“Lay there,” she instructed without a second thought. 

The boy’s eyes swelled, but he obediently stood up. Hawke caught herself and laid a gentle hand on his arm. 

“Someone will be along to check on you soon,” she soothed, her voice lighter now. “I promise.” The boy nodded toddled off to the cot. He fell asleep almost immediately.

Hawke stood up and stretched her arms above her head. She felt like she hadn’t seen sunlight in years. She and her ragtag team were camped out in Darktown as they made preparations to flee the Free Marches. They had accepted, under much protest, that they would not be able to stay together any longer. It was too much of a risk. They were too recognizable.

Isabela was arranging for a small ship to take Fenris and Hawke somewhere no one would find them, at least for now. She would go with them, along with Carver and Anders. Hawke couldn’t convince Carver to stay as far away from her as possible; he had insisted on going with them. As for Anders, Hawke felt obligated to protect him, at least until they made it away from Kirkwall. Fenris had audibly and continually objected to this, but Hawke insisted. She was losing yet more of her family; the least she could do was keep them safe.

Merril would not tell anyone where she was headed, but she assured the group she would be safe. Aveline was a known companion of Hawke’s, but had feigned such fake innocence as to be appointed to the search team, and had much to do with Hawke’s escape. No one had seen or heard from Varric in days, and Hawke’s stomach crawled at the thought of what might have happened to him.

Hawke jerked her head towards the door as she heard its familiar creak. She had grown all too accustomed to looking over her shoulder.

She saw a familiar shock of light hair against brown skin and breathed a sigh of relief. No Templars yet, but she knew it was just a matter of time.

Isabela followed after Fenris, her body covered in an unfamiliar long, black cloak. Something was wrong. Isabela had not set foot in here since Hawke had established it has her hiding place.

Hawke’s heartbeat quickened as the pair made their way towards her. She knew why they were there, but she didn’t want to accept it. She looked anywhere but at their faces; at the bag she had already packed, her collection of weapons that she knew she would have to leave behind, the boy she had just spent time healing. He was only one of thousands. How could she leave them?

“Hawke.” Fenris approached her, slowly. She worked hard to avoid his gaze. His hand cupped her elbow and she let him draw her body close to his. She took a breath of his familiar scent and steeled herself against what she knew was coming. “It’s time to go.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this for quite some time, and I hope you all enjoy it! Comments/constructive feedback are much appreciated as always. Thank you!


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